My parents have been married for thirty-five years, and not once have they celebrated Valentine's Day. I didn't come upon this fact until last year when I stopped by their house to say hello and asked my dad what his plans were for February 14th. "Probably take the dog for a walk," he responded as he stood in the kitchen, surgically preparing an orange for eating.
"You're not gonna do anything with mom?" I asked.
"She might come on the walk. Although lately the dog's had the shits and she ain't a fan, so it might be a solo endeavor."
"So you're not going to dinner or anything?" I asked.
"No."
"Yeah, I get it. It's a made up holiday anyway," I replied.
"They're all made up holidays, genius. You think Easter sprouted up from the ******* ground? No. Somebody had to say, 'I'm a big fan of Jesus and I got a ham and some time to kill on a Sunday.' "
"But you celebrate Easter," I said as I grabbed an orange slice he handed me.
"I like ham," he replied as he grabbed his plate full of fruit and moved into the dining room.
"So then why don't you celebrate Valentine's day? I don't care. I'm just curious," I pushed.
"That's the definition of caring, dum-dum. You know why human beings are here on earth? To **** each other, make babies, then take care of those babies just long enough so that those babies are able to grow up and **** each other and make more babies. That's it. That's our purpose in life. And if you don't believe me, take a good look at yourself in the mirror right after you're done jerking off next time and try to come up with a good reason as to why in the hell you just spent fifteen minutes doing that."
"I would rather not do that."
"We are prisoner to our DNA and what it tells us to do. And when it's done with us, we're old and our bodies are ******* useless. I tried to take a piss this morning and it was like a god damn broken sprinkler. My back hurts. I can't hear for ****. Hell, I haven't heard a bird in twenty ******* years. And when you realize that evolution has no more use for you, you start to wonder what the hell you're doing every day," he said, as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and scratched his biceps.
"This became a really depressing conversation," I replied.
"It's not depressing, it's just life. But here's the thing; I enjoy every god damn second I spend around your mother. So even though she and I no longer mean jack **** to furthering the human existence, and evolution couldn't give a **** what happened to us, we give a **** what happens to each other. I like living because I like spending time with your mom. So you know what? Evolution and procreation, the strongest forces in the god damn universe, can kiss my ass. Because I found a reason to tell them to blow me. And if I feel like celebrating that fact on Valentine's Day or ******* Arbor Day, it don't matter."
He looked outside in the backyard, then back at me.
"If you'll excuse me, the dog's hopping around like he's got the shits. If mom comes home tell her I'm on a walk."
Happy Valentine's Day from my dad.
Justin Halpern (@justin_halpern) is the author of the no. 1 New York Times best-seller Sh*t My Dad Says. He is also partially responsible for the television show of the same name, which you probably hated. His second book, I Suck at Girls, is a trip through Halpern's complete failures with the opposite sex. And yes, his dad is in it. He's not stupid.
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